Hundred shards of Dean
by SchwarzerSchmetterling
Summary: Everything you do in live has a consequence. A lesson Dean had to learn early – and hard. He already broke more than any human being should endure but after today he knew, there were many more cracks to come. Until, one day, he may break beyond any salvation. But what could he do? He ran out of options. And he would do anything to protect Sammy. Anything. (Warning: Prostitution)


**Please read this note first:**

Before I can let you read the story with a clear conscience, I have two very important information for you:

1) I'm German and usually write in – surprise! – German. But after reading so many English fanfictions here, I thought it is time to experiment with a new language. So please, be gentle. If my grammar or misuse of phrases/words/references/whatever offends you, please feel free to use the tiny little X on the top right of your screen.

2) This story unfortunately didn't have a beta. If there are volunteers – please step forward! I don't bite. And if I do, I'm fully vaccinated. So – I love to improve and really would appreciate some support from native speakers. Especially, when it comes to idioms and – of course – pop culture references. Some I get, but most of the time I sympathize with Cas and tilt my head in confusion. So - write me if you are interested in helping out :o)

So, in case you aren't scared away now and still interested in this story – have fun!

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Tags: Dean Winchester/Other(s), Dean Winchester, Pre-Series, Prostitution, Sub!Dean, Anal Sex, First Time, Anal Fingering, Desperate Dean, Poor Dean, Kind of brave Dean, Hurt Dean, Emotional Hurt, Bottom Dean

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His face was split in two. There, right through his right eye down to the nose passed a crack, let his face appear shrunken to an asymmetric mask.

It was a disturbing sight. Broken. As broken, as he felt in this shabby, reeking restroom.

Moldy green tiles pastured the low walls, covered with grime, graffiti and old posters of events which took place eons ago. Cold fluorescent light didn't manage to brighten every corner of the place but it was enough to see clearly what was going on around him. And considering the nauseating stench of the filthy toilets that wafted around him, he didn't miss anything.

The disgusting odor made him gag. Or was it the man behind him?

Dean forced the queasiness down his throat, gathered all the strength he could find and watched with a distant sensation the scene in the mirror.

It was painfully surreal.

A greasy man stood behind his back, his face flushed and sweaty. Wet, purple lips continuously mumbled obscenities while his wobbly hands did things to Dean, he preferably wanted to ignore.

But he couldn't.

There was no way he could ignore the hand on his hips, gripping him so tight that he knew, he would have ugly bruises tomorrow.

There was no way he could ignore the other hand, vanishing between his ass cheeks. The burning sensation of two fingers, clumsily pressing inside him, forcing him impatiently open.

Dean could see the arm moving between his legs. He was slightly leaning over the wash stand, steadying himself against the cold, dirty surface.

From his waist down the hunter was naked. His jeans and boxers hang around his left ankle, the right foot brought up next to the sink for a better access.

For spreading him wider open.

"You're so damn handsome," the shaky voice hissed wetly in his ear, making Dean shiver. What would he give to let his head flip back, break the bastards nose until he cried like a baby. Every drop of blood would be celebrated as if it was champagne.

But the guy paid to be here. And Dean needed the money. Urgently.

The nausea made itself felt again, rose in his throat and Dean had to swallow hard for not puking his guts out right here and there.

"Let's see how you take three of them," the man whispered excited and only a breath later Dean gasped, his eyes flying wide open.

A barely tolerable pressure sent painful electric jolts through his abdomen, made him wince and double up at the same time. His body shook from the tension, the hurt, the insufferableness of this situation.

"Stop," the hunter struggled for breath, clinging to the wash stand. "Stop … hurts!"

"Ah, ah, ah. For two hundred bucks it can hurt a bit. Don't ya think?" was all the man said, forcing his fingers inch by inch deeper and grabbing Deans shoulder tight, pressing the hunter literally down on his hand.

"Oh god," Dean moaned and squinnied, biting his lower lip so hard he could taste copper on his tongue. "Too … much."

"Relax!"

"Try … to," Dean responded, breathing heavy in his attempt not to freak out.

"Your virgin ass can take it. You'll see." The guy chuckled and his hands moved jerkily forward until Dean could suddenly feel knuckles on his entrance. "There you have it. Atta boy!"

Deans heart hammered in his chest. What the hell was he doing here? Why did he let this bastard grope him? Or even worse: _fuck_ him any minute?

A picture of a teenage boy abruptly flashed his mind and a strange calmness washed over him, cooling his hot anger, his desperation and shame.

Sammy.

He was doing it for Sam. To feed him, give him shelter. Clothes. God, this boy grew faster out of his Jeans than Dean could buy them.

A sharp sting brought Dean back to the disgusting restroom and with a determination he wasn't sure where it came from, he forced Sammys image away. His baby brother had nothing to do with this dirty part of the world Dean had to dive in and even thinking about him in this situation made Dean feel as if he polluted him.

He wouldn't let this happen. Sam would never come in touch with _this_.

Dean felt defeated when he opened his eyes again. His ass burned under the up and down movements the guy started with his fingers and his chest felt so tight that he wondered when it would crush.

Wet, squishy noises echoed from the walls, accompanying the erratic thrusting of the guys hand as he tried to bury his fingers as deep as possible in Deans body.

Dean knew that somewhere inside him a special spot lay hidden and he hoped – even prayed – that the man wouldn't find it. The last thing he wanted was to feel lust, maybe become aroused by this whole shit. Even if he knew it would be just a physical reaction to the stimulation, he couldn't stand the thought of it.

"You're so tight," the guy murmured, his voice husky and heavy of lust. "So tight."

Suddenly the hand withdrew with an unpleasant sliding sensation and his muscle contracted involuntarily.

Dean heard the guy rummaging behind him but didn't need to check the mirror to know what was going on.

The sound of a ripped open wrapping didn't leave anything to the imagination. Neither did the clicking of a bottle top.

The hunter swallowed again, his heartbeat now so fast that he could barely hear anything above the blood rushing in his ears.

He should go. Now. Leave this place, never come back. Bury the memory in a hidden vault in his mind. To hell with the money. He would find another way. Yeah. Yeah, he would. Needed to. Somehow.

His head spun under the weight of his panicking mind. Maybe it was due to the turmoil inside him that he couldn't bring his body to obey. To kick the bastard away and run, run, run.

But maybe it was, because he knew, deep down in his soul, that he tried every possibility to make money. That he had finally ran out of options.

A demanding pressure on his entrance interrupted his thoughts and brought an abrupt end to his inner discussion about stopping this situation.

His mouth fell open in pure terror as the tip entered him. He had thought the fingers were big? This was nothing against to what happened right now!

With clenched teeth he watched himself in the mirror. Saw, how the guy bowed his knees for a better angle. Saw the cock towering up his ass, vanishing between his cheeks.

"Oh god, yes!" the man hissed, forcing himself inside the tightness.

"Slower!" Dean growled, although he knew that the pace of the penetration wouldn't take away anything of the pain.

"Just relax, my little whore. You're doing good." The raspy voice of the guy wavered somewhere between excitement and impatience. His hips rolled up and with a jolt he dipped himself several inches at once deeper.

Dean cried out, the throbbing pain bringing tears to his eyes.

"Son of a bitch!" He panted strained between his teeth, clutching the wash stand so forcefully, his knuckles turned white.

"Just a bit more and you'll like it, bitch!"

"Stop calling me this, or I will—"

"Or you'll do what, hm?" the guy asked mockingly and then, as if he wanted to prove a point, his hips slammed forward and he sank deeper again.

An agonizing groan escaped Deans throat and against his will he spread his legs wider, leaning farther forward just to reduce the torturing pressure. He felt the heat of the strangers skin coming closer to his own.

"You think you're something special? Well, I have news for you, _slut_," the guy nearly spat the word, "You aren't! You let me fuck your sweet virgin ass for money! If that doesn't make you a whore, what else? So behave like one and make it good for my bucks!"

With that, the man forced his cock completely inside, sighing deeply and obviously enjoying several seconds the sensation, before he started to thrust into the tightness with dark grunts.

Dean yelped, the stretching too much for his inexperienced muscle. He shivered, tried to escape the rough treatment, but only found himself at the mercy of the stranger.

There was nowhere to escape without using violence.

"No," His voice was damn close to a sob. "Please … too … much."

He was jarred with every short, jagged shove.

"Relax!" the man gasped between two slamming thrusts, not slowing any of his movements. "In a few … seconds … I … _oh god, yes _… will have … fucked away … your virginity … and it … _uuuh_ … will … become … easier."

The rapid pounding left Dean so breathless, that he had no energy to spare for a protest he knew was futile. Even more, as Dean had to admit, that it really became less intolerable with every rocking. Still painful, yes, but with the acceptance of his helplessness came a calmness which finally brought the required relaxation.

But when the calmness potentiated itself to a devouring numbness and crept down his limbs, all he could do was staring into the mirror, watching the shaft gliding in and out of him and condone the obnoxious friction. The burning. The feeling of his filled channel.

Fucking hell, what was wrong with him? He should be angry. Mad! He should kick the shit out of the bastard, make him bleed for the crap he said.

Preserve the rest of his dignity.

If there would be anything left to preserve.

The strangers words from before echoed suddenly in his stunned mind, stealing his thunder.

With his mouth slightly open, he stared at his mirror image again at the guy grinding his hips up in sharp thrusts to fuck him deeper and deeper. Heard the '_Uuuhs_' and '_Aaahs_', saw the enjoyment on the strangers flushed face which was such a stark contrast to his own paleness.

Oh god, the guy was right. He _was_ a whore. Who did he try to fool? Did he really want to make himself believe, it was just an ordinary job, like mow the lawn for someone?

Jobs came with descriptions. Going after ghosts made him a hunter. Selling his ass a hooker.

The thing was – one of them was temporarily.

Dean blinked, when the true meaning behind his realization hit him.

When he left the restroom it would be with the knowledge, that he was _able_ to do this. To keep his promise of taking care. But he would be also able to strip this role like a snake its skin.

Until he had to find another restroom, another Jerk like this.

An especially hard thrust threw him towards the mirror and he had to release his grip on the wash stand and steady himself on the cracked mirror.

The guy grunted and wheezed, hissed an moaned, every rocking of his hip accompanied with obscene wet noises.

Son of a bitch. He would be incredibly sore when this was over.

Deans jaw clenched as he stared himself in the eyes. If he had offer his ass, it should be as short as possible.

The numbness inside him spread further as he hesitantly shoved himself back on the cock, let his hips circle a bit. He was instantly rewarded with a deep, pleasant moan.

"Oh yes. Fucking yes," the guy panted huskily, his body shivering and covered in sweat. His face was so purple as if he would suffer a heart attack any minute.

Again, Dean let his hips roll, rocked it back, but this time he used more force. He grunted with the effort it took out of him.

Dean needed some clumsy attempts but finally he found a steady rhythm and the guy yelped, rolling his eyes.

"God, what took you so long. You're … _oh god_ … you're fucking good. Tight and good. I'm gonna … _oh_ _Jesus fucking Christ_ … I'm gonna—"

"Yeah, come! Shoot your load!" Dean hissed, forcing himself down on the other's cock and pushing him deep inside, strongly determined to abbreviate this shit as much as possible, whatever it took.

"Oh … oh … yes, yes, YES!" The man screamed with an impassioned moan, clutched the hips of the hunter tightly and ground himself with a final deep, harsh thrust inside Deans body.

And Dean found himself joining in the scream, as the guy managed to find his secret spot with the last shove. An electric jolt shot through his body and he involuntarily jerked forward, seducing another moan from the man behind him.

The sensation was enough to let his own dick twitch, suddenly deciding to go half hard. His heart hammered rapidly in his chest in the aftermath of this one hit and he didn't dare to imagine what a stronger stimulation would do to him.

He swallowed breathlessly, ignored the dark abyss which opened up deep inside him, threatened to flood him with things, he thought he had locked securely away.

"Said you'd like it," the stranger mumbled sleepily against Deans neck, who shrugged his shoulders to shake him off.

"Pull out – now!" was Dean only response, already trying and failing to get away from the sweaty man. He was still spiked by his increasingly softening cock.

The other reluctantly obeyed and with a last wet noise the condom covered dick glided out.

Dean cautiously took down his foot from the wash stand and when he was sure his legs would support him, he immediately dressed himself.

There was a strange itching on his skin, nearly like a vibrating sensation. It took him a moment to realize, that he was trembling.

Meanwhile, the guy had removed the condom, pulled up his pants and rummaged around his pockets, took out some bills. He threw several crinkled notes next to the sink and grinned smugly.

"Give me a hint when you're in the area again." He leaned over Dean, his finger tracing down his side and hooking in his belt loop, trying to pull the hunter up. He planted a wet kiss on Deans jaw, who jumped, a disgusted sound escaping his lips.

The guy chuckled and let Dean go. He turned around, shuffled to the door and grabbed the handle. But then, suddenly, he took one last look at Dean.

"And keep in mind what you are."

With that, he left.

Dean stared several moments at the closed door.

For one moment, he felt an ache in him he had no words for. Felt a brokenness, which took his breath away.

He should keep in mind what he was?

He was Dean Winchester. A devoted son and brother. A guy, who would do everything to keep his family, the ones he truly loved, safe and sound.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Dean knew that he already broke in more ways any human being should endure. But somehow he had a presentiment that there were more cracks to come, until he would burst into so many shards that nothing and no one could put together anymore.

But, so what?

He wasn't made for love, an own family or even a relationship. Wasn't worth anything of this. It was okay for him. He just knew that it was too much demanded from any human being to pick up his individual parts and put them together again. And it wasn't as if an angel would fall from heaven to save him.

So he would give what he had until one day nothing of him was left anymore.

Except of … maybe hundred shards of Dean.


End file.
